


Sleeplessness

by treetracer



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M, First Time, Lemon, Love, Porn with Feelings, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-19 13:53:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20658311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/treetracer/pseuds/treetracer
Summary: "...his eyes flitting down to my lips then, bashfully, back up to my eyes. My smile brightens with the unspoken question and then I close the distance between us. I nearly forget about the rain, the thunder, the lightning, and the howling wind as I slip my arms around his neck and lean into him. He turns toward me, his hands on my hips as we kiss, and I invite him into a deeper embrace."





	Sleeplessness

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't pass up the opportunity of writing another fanfiction of my MC and Muriel. Hopefully I stayed true to Muriel's character. Please give me any feed back. I'm thinking of expanding and writing with Julian and Asra, pairing them off with the MC's I have made for them. Thank you for your time and enjoy!

I cannot sleep in the palace. I have laid awake for hours, willing sleep to come to me, but it will not. It evades me like a criminal in the night. Frustrated, I sling the blankets off me and stand up, marching across the moon-lit room to my wardrobe. I summon a light to shine above me as I rifle through the clothes, hunting for something to wear. I pull on linin undergarments, a long grey tunic that wrap a belt around, tightly fitted trousers, and boots. I look around for my cloak, seize it from the chair by my lavish vanity, and drape it around my shoulders. Then I’m out the door. I must stop myself from sprinting from this place – from the cool marble, polished bronze statues, and vast crystal chandeliers. I’m not used to this, where before it had made me uncomfortable, now it’s nearly unbearable. At least… without him it is. Having spent nearly a month and a half out in the wilds of the South, sleeping under the stars, huddled against Muriel’s strong form for warmth, and contending with the feeling of ever-present danger – the palace makes me feel vulnerable. 

Once I’m past the main gate I break into a run. The small dagger on my belt slaps against my thigh, the clasp of my cloak rattles, and the cobblestone under my feet sings to me as I move swiftly through the town. I know the way to my destination well and I pass through alleyways and streets quickly. I wish that I could run all the way there – over the miles it takes to get to his house, but I tire when I reach the edge of the city. Here the houses and buildings pitter out as I near the forest and fewer candles glow in windows. It’s darker here and I can smell rain on the air even before the first, weak, flicker of lightning highlights the clouds. With easy magic I summon a small light above my head to guide me as I go. 

I step into the forest and the natural, vibrant, magic that it holds gives me a new serge of energy and I begin to run again. My legs carry me over the root-gnarled path, over rocks, and a fallen tree that I scramble over gracelessly. My heart pounds faster as I draw closer and I’m more excited to see the mountain of a man that I want to admit. I missed him. It’s only been a week since we last saw one another but I miss him so much that I think I might burst with the feeling. He’s so kind, so sweet spirited, and I can only think of the blinding brilliance of his face when he smiles. How had someone like him ever become the “Scourge of the South”? Lucio will pay for what he has done to the one that I know that I have fallen for. The one that my heart has chosen. It may have only been a month and a half that I have gotten to know him again, but I feel certain we were close before I lost my memories. Surely that is why I feel so strongly about him.

The rain comes when I am less than half a mile away from the hut in the woods. It’s light at first, just barely making it through the trees, and then it comes down in great sheets. Thunder booms and cracks – lightening splits the sky, blinding me, and frightening me. I try and make my light brighter, but it’s become difficult to concentrate on it as I run and fight the tempest. Then I feel a touch of rune magic and I know that I am close. I run faster but I’m clumsy in my pursuit, my boot snags a root, and I fall forward, hard, into the mud. It knocks the breath from my lungs, and I groan with the pain that the hard tumble brings. Slowly, under the beating of the rain, I stand and look down, trying to take stock of myself in deep darkness around me. It’s useless. 

A flicker of a light ahead of me makes me look up. I see the flicker of an enchanted lantern and I slosh toward it. 

“Muriel?” I call out, over the rain and howling winds. Then I see his scared face, framed by the hood of his cloak, and I smile, foolishly, at the sight of him. I run toward him, barely containing myself, keeping myself from throwing my hands around his neck and kissing him. Then, closer, I see the worry etched over his features. 

“Aster, what are you-“ a flash of lightening and a snap of thunder interrupt him and it’s so loud and close that I jump. I feel a hand grab me carefully by the arm and he pulls me swiftly across the yard to his small hut. 

He ushers me quickly into his home, Inanna looks up from her spot by the roaring fire and wags her tail at seeing me. 

“Aster,” Muriel starts as he locks his door and turns to me, “what… what are you doing here?” he asks and I’m dumbstruck for an answer. I stand there looking up to him, he’s just as soak as I am. My cloak isn’t oiled and it’s heavy on my shoulders, laden with water, that pours onto the floor. 

“I… I missed you,” he looks away from me, a flush touching his cheeks, and his mouth curling in that particular way it does when he’s uncomfortable or uncertain. He looks up to me and I shiver from the sudden chill I have. 

“I’ll find you something dry,” he says and moves to the other side of his hut without sparing me another glance. I look down and undo the clasp to my cloak and let it fall to the ground with a soggy _thwump_; I feel thirty pounds lighter. Another shiver shudders through me as I bend to pick up the sodden garment and look for a place to hang it. A hook, one of several, by the door catches my eye and I step to place it there. It hangs, dripping a pool of water, onto the floor. _I’ll need to clean that up_, I think as Muriel approaches me. He hands me a towel and one of his tunics, it’s very large and grey, worn in, soft and smells faintly of myrrh, just as he does. I smile up at him and then sit the items on a small table as I reach to undo the belt around my waist. Muriel turns away from me to give me privacy then he moves to crouch my Inanna and gently scratches Inanna between her ears. 

I undress and dry off in silence, occasionally stealing glances at the back of Muriel’s hunched figure. I slip the tunic over my head and it engulfs me, my shoulders peek out from under the large collar. I feel a thrill of excitement that is laced with insecurity at being clothed in his tunic and nothing more. My undergarments are mixed in with my other soaking clothes. 

“I’m descent,” I say as I bend to pick up my dripping bundle of garments. Muriel stands and moved toward me silently then takes my wet burden from me. He piles them by the door and opens it before wringing out each one before he takes them to a line he has strung up on the far side of his hut. For the first time I occurs to me how domestic Muriel is. I look around the room, seeing herbs drying over a basin, what looks like a sewing project on the table. Was he mending his clothes? A broom is propped in the corner, books fill a shelf, a few plants thrive by them. I wonder where they get their sunlight and I look up to discover that his windows are situated between the gnarled roots of the tree. I sense rune magic keeping them from leaking. The walls are stonework and the floor is smooth, even, wooden planks and, despite the roots that weave overhead, it is a clean place. It’s cozy, welcoming, and I enjoy being here.

I kneel and mop up with the towel that Muriel gave me. I reach out and touch the cloak I wore, and I try and dry it a little with magic. Steam rises from it and it stops dripping. Drying clothes is best done outside or in a better ventilated area. Muriel’s hut isn’t one of those places. I at least feel better knowing that it isn’t ruining his floor. I bring the towel to Muriel and he hangs it up with the rest of my clothes. Then I look at him, he’s still wet from the rain and I feel a little guilty about having barged into his home in the middle of the night. I’d almost forgotten the time and I wonder what Nadia’s large clocks would tell me now. Was it past midnight already? Maybe it was one in the morning now. I didn’t know. 

I go and sit by Inanna on the large fur by the fire. It’s warm and I stroke her coat idly, keeping my eyes away from Muriel as he changes. We haven’t spoken much, and I feel conversations burning in my throat and chest. I want to hear the deep rumble of his voice fill my soul and the room. I want to tell him all that has happened this week. I want to ask him what he’s going to wear to the masquerade. I already have my outfit picked out. 

He sits down beside me, he crosses his legs like me, upper body bare, and his legs swathed in comfortable looking trousers. I look up to his profile as he sighs and leans forward, placing his elbows on the insides of his knees. Silence hangs between us, only the sounds of the storm outside and the crackling fire fill the space. 

“I’m sorry if I woke you,” I say when I feel like I’m going to choke on the quiet. He looks to me with his warm green eyes and shakes his head. 

“I was not sleeping… but you did scare me. You were running and my runes sensed your haste. I thought something was wrong,” he says and then looks back at the fire before yawning.  


“I’m sorry,” I say again, feeling foolish for apologizing for the second time. 

“Did you… did you really… miss me?” he asks and looks down to me despite the blush that touches his cheeks and nose. I nod and feel a flush of color heat my ears. 

“It’s just,” I struggle for the words. What do I tell him? How do I tell him that all I’ve done all week was wonder what he’s done, if he’s eaten, if he’s warm or is he too hot? I want to know how his chickens are doing, how Inanna is fairing, how his life is going, and it’s consumed every minutes of every day and, despite working hard all week, I cannot remember anything I have done! “It’s just,” I start again, “that the palace feels so vast and empty compared to here… where or my shop. I spend most nights with Portia but, somehow, it isn’t the same,” I place my face in my hands and exhale heavily.  


A long moment passes between us, I know he’s mulling over what he wants to say. How he wants to say it, but I hate the moments to pass because I feel antsy and anxious and I don’t know why. 

“I think I understand,” he says, and I look up to him, “I missed you too,” he says. I feel like I’m on a rollercoaster because, as soon as he confesses, I feel my mood lighten. I smile, softly, at him and feel joy bubble up in my stomach when the corners of his mouth turn up a little and his blush deepens. He looks away and into the fire, so that he can muster up his words again.

“I used to like being by myself,” Inanna lifts her head and looks up at him, “with Inanna,” he smiles and rubs her head. “It… was very different here without you. It’s been quiet,” he admits, and I’m surprised at his honesty, but it’s refreshing. It warms my heart to hear him open up, to be less guarded, and know that not everyone means to do him harm – that he’s cared for by many. 

“I should have come sooner,” I admit and cautiously lean my head to rest against his shoulder. His shoulders relax a little and I hear a sigh pass through his nose. 

“No, I should have come to see you. Nearly all… our friends have asked me to come to the Palace. I just…” he trails off and rubs his face with one, large, hand. I tilt my head to look at him and then draw myself up to my knees, taking his hand in both of mine. 

“I know it’s hard for you Muriel, to visit the Palace but all of us really love you,” I say, and Muriel looks to me then casts his eyes away. Gently I reach out and cup his cheek, tilting my head to draw his gaze to mine. He looks at me and I smile. “Do you believe me?” I ask him quietly. 

“I do…” he exhales the words his eyes flitting down to my lips then, bashfully, back up to my eyes. My smile brightens with the unspoken question and then I close the distance between us. I nearly forget about the rain, the thunder, the lightning, and the howling wind as I slip my arms around his neck and lean into him. He turns toward me, his hands on my hips as we kiss, and I invite him into a deeper embrace. One hand runs up and down my back absently and the thumb of the other swirls over my hip. I love these little attentions he gives. At first, he was reluctant to do anything but kiss, no hand movement, touching, or anything of the like. It took some time to let him know that he could touch me, that I would not break under his hands, wrapped in his arms, or pressed against him in an embrace. I find that he enjoys rubbing my back, arms, running fingers over the curve of my waist, my neck – petting me more than anything, it’s a soothing touch that I relish immensely. 

We pull away from each other after a time and I lick my lips. I meet his graze and feel my heart swell, “I really missed you,” I whisper and reach a hand up to brush my fingers over his bottom lip before I wrap my arms around his neck and hug him fiercely. He seems a little stunned at first, because he doesn’t wrap his arms around me right away, and then he holds me close to him. I feel the fullness of my breasts press against his strong chest and he draws me into his lap. He shifts his legs under me, and I find myself comfortable, nestled in his arms, the scent of myrrh all around me. I draw my arms down from around his neck and place my hands on either side of his face. He stares down at me for a long time – questions and unspoken conversations etch his brow. I run an index finger over his lips.  


“Aster…” he breathes my name like a prayer and my heart is immediately in my throat. A sudden gust of wind rattles the door, lightening splits the sky, and thunder booms – reminding the both of us that there is a war of elements outside. I jump in his arms and he holds me closer. He looks to the door and then back at me, “it looks like you’re going to be here a while…” he says quietly. I don’t say anything, instead I kiss him again. The softness of his lips against mine makes me want to melt away, slip into his veins, and know the inner most parts of him. I feel suddenly very desperate for him, but I keep myself calm. I don’t want to scare him away because I cannot bare the idea being separated from him – indefinitely. 

I draw my hands to lay on his chest and I feel my heart leap beneath my breasts at the warm contact of his bare skin there. It’s not that I’m unaccustomed to the sensation of his bare skin but there is something new about the lack of cloak, the missing scarf, and the shear vastness of it. I kiss him deeper. He kisses back. I allow my hands to roam over him, exploring, feeling scars – ridged under my touch, the dip between his pectorals, then up to the curve of his clavicle. Under my touch his skin prickles with goosebumps and I shiver slightly, but not from the chill I’d felt earlier.  


Boldly I draw my legs over his, straddling him, and his breath hitches. Mine does too because I’m acutely aware of several things now. The tunic I wear is hiked up to my upper thigh, I feel a pressing need between my legs – desire that is only separated by flimsy fabric, and heat that has readily pooled in intimate places. Muriel pulls away from me, unwraps his arms and places his hands on my hips – firmly, and I fear I’ve overstepped my bounds. 

“Aster…” he says, almost like a plea, and I see the uncertainty clearly etched on his face and playing in his eyes. “We can’t… I’ll- I’ll hurt you,” he says but he does not move me away from him. Instead his desperate eyes search mine for something, of what I’m not sure. 

“Muriel,” I say and lay a hand on his cheek reassuringly, “you won’t hurt me,” I tell him and smile. He looks away, a blush touching his cheeks, and I draw his gaze back to mine. “I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do. I… I care for you too much,” I say carefully. I want to tell him what my heart yearns to scream – I want to tell him that I love him but I’m afraid to. Though I do not know why I fear the answer. His kind green eyes meet mine again and the grip on my hips relaxes, his thumbs rub circles over them now. A good sign, I hope. “Do you want this?” I ask, voice quieter than I’d meant it to me. He leans forward and touches our foreheads together. 

“I do,” he admits, and I feel relief wash over me like an all-consuming wave. He relaxes his shoulders heavily and then he slips his head down into the gentle curve of my neck. A hear a soft groan slip from him and I wrap my arms around the fullness of his torso. I feel what restrain he had, press tighter against the fabric of his trousers. Heat floods my face as my heart begins to race a little faster. I wonder if I’ve ever done this before. Have I ever laid with someone before? Has he? This thought has crossed my mind before but it’s not something I’ve given deep thought to. Truthfully, I’d always been so busy with life I’d never given romance much thought. Muriel has changed so much in me. 

Carefully I draw back from him and reach for his hands to take them from my hips. I feel nervous now, but excited, I feel a thousand things at once but above the cacophony of emotions I feel one, standing brightly above them all – adoration. I know that I want nothing but to be with Muriel and I know that I want him to know me, all of me. I curl my fingers under the hem of the tunic and slowly draw it up and over my frame. Then I am bare before him. I toss it to the side and, gracelessly, it lands on Inanna. She looks up to me, disgruntled. I stifle a giggle as she stands up, stretches, and wanders off to lie by the door; her back to us. Muriel blushes deeper and looks from her then back to me. 

“Did she say something?” I ask as I reach for his hands. 

“Yes… that it had taken us… _long enough_,” he twists his mouth in thought but whatever words he was going to speak are lost when I draw his hands up to my breasts. I curl my toes a little as his large hands encompass them. The fullness of my bosom has always been mildly cumbersome, bigger than most, and I find myself binding them down just so they stay out of the way. They fit perfectly, however, in his large grasp. I chew my lower lip as he kneads them, I slip my hands over his forearms and gently grip them. Carefully he begins to explore and it’s nearly frustrating how slow he is. I calm myself as best I can, enjoying the blessing of being touched, even while I feel his ever-growing desire taunt me. A sigh slips pass my nose and I nestle my hips closer to his, reclining my head, allowing my body to relax under his hands. They trail over nipples, the underside of my breasts, the soft curve of my waist, over the roundness of my bottom, the thickness of my thighs, then over my lower stomach. My heart races when I think he’ll touch me farther down but he doesn’t and I feel frustrated that he doesn’t, his hands on my chest distracts me – then he leans and presses a kiss to my neck. I feel as though he’s worshiping me. He says nothing, only the sound of the fire, the storm, and our breathing is heard. 

I cannot continue like this, however. I want to know him. I want to feel all of him – more than just his hands, his lips, or the breath that caresses my chest as he takes me in. Slowly I draw myself upright again, regain my spine, and take his face reverently in my hands and kiss his forehead. With a gentle push on his chest I urge him backwards. He hesitates and I smile, kindly.  
“Do you trust me, Muriel?” I ask him. He leans back, nodding. 

“Yes,” his answer is solid, affirming, and he reclines, propping himself on his elbow as I draw my self down his legs, gently tugging at his trousers. He helps me and quickly they are discarded. A flush of heat rises within me as I look down to the prize that has been awaiting me. A dewy bead of excitement blooms at the tip and drips down onto the flushed skin of his hips. Involuntarily I lick my lips. The thought I have next makes my stomach flip with a thrill and it isn’t one I’ve had before – I want to take him into my mouth. I want to know what that sticky, sweet-looking, drop tastes like. 

Muriel moves and pulls me from my thoughts, I must have been staring too long. How could I not? He’s sizable, proportional, and is shouldn’t be surprised – but I am. I have a moment of doubt, I’m smaller in stature than he is. Will he fit? I banish the thought and look up to him with a smile, bright and genuine. I place a hand back on his chest and he eases back a little more. I take hold of his member, it’s warm and firm in my grasp – he inhales sharply, and it’s my turn to look concerned. I question him with my eyes and he subtly nod’s, telling me that he’s fine and I relax a little. My heart is hammering in my chest as I take a moment to examine him as he did with me. I run my hand up and down his manhood slowly, run my thumb over the head, coating it with his natural lubricant. His body quakes under my attention and he balls his fists into the plush rug under him. 

Then I move forward, hold him, positioning him at the near-dripping entrance into my being. I look up to Muriel and meet his hooded eyes, place my hand on his shoulder to steady myself, and sink my hips down over him. He groans low in his chest; I feel it as much as I hear it. A shiver courses down him and I wonder if it’ll be over before it’s even begun. 

The pleasure within me is mixed as I glide down onto the head of his aching need. My body stretches, fitting over him like a tight glove. I place both my hands on his shoulders and close my eyes, sinking down onto him, it’s a bit more uncomfortable than I thought it would be, but I want this to work. Already my heart, my soul, is singing with delight and joy at this tentative union. Magic warms my belly as I think of the pleasure, how I want it to be great, overwhelming, and all encompassing. The uncomfortable burning between my legs eases and I sigh as I lower my hips down flush with his. I have never felt this full, this complete, and it draws a shiver from me. 

“Are you… alright?” Muriel asks me, his voice husky with desire. I look up and meet his eyes and I nod, unable to speak. I press against his chest asking him to lay all the way down and he does. He places his hands on my thighs and slowly rubs them – I feel his own magic mixing with mine, something I’ve never felt before, and it makes my nerves hop with excitement. Slowly I draw myself upward until I feel the fullness of his member at my soaked entrance again. I lean forward and sink back down, adopting a slow rhythm – something that I can manage. 

Muriel half sighs, half groans under me as I move. _Am I_ going too slow? I wonder and then begin to pick up the pace. I want this to last – the connection between us in this moment. He’s buried to the hilt in me now and I rock my hips, grinding ours together. The sounds he’s making are addicting and I rock a little harder against him, my clit bumping against his pelvis, sending fire rocketing up through my veins. A moan slips pass my lips and I dig my nails into the skin of his chest with the pleasure of it. Then I resume the methodical pace again – languid, easy movements, punctuated by soft sighs, moans, and bit-lip whines. I change the pace by drawing my hips up, then sitting down on him quickly, his gift filling me to the brim. My breasts bounce against my chest with the action – my momentum is growing, and I feel like a runway train. Every nerve-ending is on fire and I want to be consumed by it. I must stop – I don’t want this to be over so soon after it has started. 

Groaning I slow down and sit with him buried within me. He looks up to me, I feel a bead of sweat roll down my back and I flash him a cheeky smile. Then he moves and I shudder. I had been so close to my climax it almost feels like a sin to have stopped. He sits up and, with a boldness I’m not used to, he takes my face in his hands and kisses me. I drink him in, press my bare chest to his and return the kiss eagerly. 

“Do you hurt?” he whispers against my lips. I kiss him again, then again, and once more before answering. 

“No… but my legs,” I smile against his mouth, “they’re not used to this,” I say and kiss him again, loving that I am one with him and that he’s as kind as he is. I could not have asked for a better person to share my soul with. “Could you take over?” I ask him and he draws back from me nodding and I remove myself from him. Immediately I miss him – I want him back within me, filling me – I feel like a puzzle missing a piece, whole, but not complete. 

I lay back on the fur rug and I look up to him as he crawls over my much smaller frame. He looks bigger from this vantage point and it makes my heart race with greater anticipation. I look up to him then reach for his face to draw it down to mine for another kiss as I part my legs and he sinks down between them. The kiss is long and deep, and he halts what he’s doing to savor me as I savor him. When we part I reach between us and guide him back to the entrance of my waiting anticipation. There is a moment of hesitation before he slips back into me. I gasp, this angle is different, and it makes my toes curl but he stops. Realizing I have startled him I look up and smile. 

“…too much?” he asks, and I shake my head, golden curls tickling my neck, with the motion. 

“No… never enough,” I whisper and wrap my legs loosely around his waist and draw him closer, deeper into me. He rocks his hips, cautious at first, but I moan freely, gasping as he touches parts of me I couldn’t while I rode him. He places kisses over my face, my neck, and my shoulders – he’s much more affectionate that I’d thought he’d be, and my heart is soaring with it. Every fiber of my being does nothing but exist for him, for this moment, and for every moment spent with him after this. His tempo increases as he gains confidence in his motions and I encourage him to continue with every enthusiastic thrust he presses into me. 

Then I feel it. That white hot knot within the core of my being – I feel it drawing tight with each forward movement into me. I’m not ready for the finish, I’m not ready for the climax, for this all to draw to an explosive end. I want this to last but I know that it cannot. Groaning, I bite my lower lip and dig my fingers into his sides, clawing at a way to hang on just a little longer, for this moment to draw on into an eternity that I know does not exist. 

I unravel. 

My toes curl, I arch my back, clenching down on him – even as he continues to thrust, and I try, but fail, to bite back a wordless cry of ecstasy, as the whole of my body strains with the powerful orgasm. My thighs twitch and convulse as Muriel’s thrusting becomes swifter, trying to catch up to me, to meet his glorious end. I hold onto him tightly, riding the high of my climax as he works toward his, and then I feel his body stiffen. He closes in around me, holding me, as feel his member pulse within my own tight heat, filling me with his potential. A primal groan pours from his chest and into the room as he relaxes over me. I wrap my arms around him, my legs around his waist, keeping him buried in me for as long as I am able. I kiss his ear, his shoulder, run my fingers soothingly up and down his back as he gathers his wits and I gather mine. 

When he finally rolls off me, I find I miss his weight, but I know he’s as tired as I feel. Sleep seems close now, and I turn my head to look at him. His eyes are heavily lidded, his forearm laid against his forehead, and he looks thoughtful, as if he’s just now processing the fact that we have now shared a single body, that our souls have touched, that our magic has mingled. I wonder if it weights on him in the same way it weights on me. I do not think, no, I know that he would not do this with someone he did not care for and I am hopeful for tomorrow. Muriel yawns and turns toward me; he smiles sleepily, and I feel my heart dissolve at the sight. I smile back. Then he draws me in close and I turn my back to him, facing the warm, crackling fire, and he buries his face into my neck and inhales deeply. Myrrh sounds me, fills my senses, as I gather his arm against my body and press a kiss to his palm and whisper, “I love you,” against it.

\---  
Bright morning sun pouring in from the windows above me draws me out of a deep sleep. The whispers of a pleasant dream rush to the edges of my consciousness and then slip from my mind as I blink into wakefulness. I notice I’m in Muriel’s bed. The sheets are soft under my naked skin. I feel Inanna by my feet and the cozy warmth of the quilt tucked tightly around my frame. Sleepily I look around, seeking out Muriel, and I find him sitting at his table, the door to the hut open, allowing in sunlight and a renewing morning breeze. Groggy I sit up, holding the blanket to my chest, not out of modesty, because that is gone now, so much as to keep its warmth near me. Muriel looks up from the sewing he’s working on and smiles at me. My heart leaps and I’m, suddenly, very awake. The smile makes him look so much lighter, happier, and I hope that he is. I hope that he knows how much he is adored. I smile back at him as he sits his work down, grabs a cup of something steaming from the table, and walks to me. He’s wearing a tunic, I notice now, and brown trousers. He looks clean, fresh shaven, and refreshed. I’m certain I look like a mess. He sits down on the edge of the bed and I scoot closer to him as he offers me the tea. I take it from him and bring it to my nose to sniff. I know the scent, but I don’t know why. 

“Good morning,” he offers, and I look up to him with a renewed smile. 

“Good morning,” I croak and he half smiles then looks down to the tea, becoming bashful. 

“It’s Queen Ann’s Lace and wild yam,” he explains and then I understand. “Last night I didn’t-“ 

“It’s all right,” I interrupt him, feeling a blush touch my cheeks, and I gingerly sip at the tea. It’s not bitter like I had thought it would be. “I wanted you to…” I trail and look away from him. I had wanted him to climax in me, but in the throws of passion it would have appeared that we both forgot ourselves. He forgot to ask if he could and I forgot to ask him to. It seems like it worked out. 

Carefully I move to sit beside him, the quilt still covering me but I sit shoulder to shoulder with him, sipping the tea. Queen Ann’s Lace tea is a brew I make often for people in the city, but I’ve never made it before or used it until today. I’d never had a reason to – I’d never needed contraception before. Muriel takes my left hand, the one nearest him, and turns it over in his grasp. I stop drinking and look up to him as he traces a rune in my palm. I’m not familiar with rune magic but I feel the tickle of it there as he finishes making the mark. I look up, about to ask him what it is that he’s drawn on my hand, when draws my hand to his lips and kisses the mark. His voice soft, reverent like a prayer, and I feel my heart seize. 

“I love you too,” he says and then smiles down at me and I know, beyond any doubt, that I love and will always love, this mountain of a man.


End file.
